


Certainty

by thewakeless



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Dan POV, Hiatus, M/M, No Plot, Questioning Sexuality, introspective, over thinking, questioning career, questioning gender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 02:00:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17972321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewakeless/pseuds/thewakeless
Summary: During the hiatus Daniel had a lot of time to think, and to overthink.





	Certainty

Certainty

Daniel Howell had come into a new name and a new routine.  He got up before 8 every day and went for a run while Phil slept; he listened to podcasts and downloaded new albums always searching for something to spike his interest.  But the truth was ever since they gotten back from tour he had had a lot of time to think, perhaps too much time.  He went over things time and time again, till he was exhausted, and more unsure of himself than when he had started.  What was it he was looking for again?  What was it that he wanted?

To an outsider it might well seem like Daniel had it made.  Like he had all the key elements to be happy and fulfilled.  He was conventionally handsome, successful, he had a large following, an impassioned fan base, plenty money, two supportive families, an amazing partner and access to a therapist, to medication, to a personal trainer.  What else did a person need?  Looking at it objectively, he should have been happy, he should have been over the fucking moon.  His life was a million people’s dream; he had so many things to be grateful for and Daniel was grateful for them, but, but –

After twenty blocks, he stopped to catch his breath, breathing deeply and feeling the swift rise and fall of his chest.  It hadn’t been a bad time really.  Or at least not as bad as when he was young and undiagnosed.  He was eating right, sleeping well, doing exercise, laughing a lot, having good sex.  His career might be on halt but in every other way he was functional, and for him that was huge.  That was the important bit, but it wasn’t everything. 

Taking time off made him think too much.  In the last few months he had reevaluated his life a thousand times, examining each micro decision, speculating on different outcomes, wondering what kind of person he would have become if he had taken some of those other opportunities.  What if he had become a lawyer? What if he hadn’t met Phil IRL?  Or even dumber questions, what if he’d never bought the eclipse shirt? What if he had talked about his mental health in 2014 instead of 2017? What would have changed?

He looked up at the green glow of the traffic lights.  It was 7 o’clock in the morning.  His old self would have been deep asleep, nuzzling a pillow on one side and Phil on the other.  But he liked the mornings.  He liked the freshness of the air, and the dew that rested over everything.  It reminded him of being a little kid, and walking sleepily to class, his backpack heavy on his shoulders.  There were less people in the morning too; he was less likely to be stopped, to be recognized, to be questioned….

On the whole Daniel had never really liked being around people.  He could do it, do it seamlessly, he had that talent, probably from having spent so much of his youth in the theater but it was taxing.  Online he always joked that he could spend his whole life in a room with a laptop, but the truth was that it wasn’t even a joke.  That was his reality, and the only other thing he really needed was Phil.

He always ran back home a different way.  He had no set streets to go by, no plan, he didn’t even time himself or measure how many kilometers he went. This was just a thoughtless action, something mechanical, he didn’t have to analyze it.  And afterwards, when he crawled back into bed with his boyfriend, all gross and sweaty, and Phil would groggily complain but hug him anyway, Daniel felt wonderful, elated, like the day was off to a perfect start.

Even better on days when Phil agreed to morning sex, morning sex was good.  This was the easy part, it was the rest of the day that scared him.  What was he supposed to do with all those hours? What should he do? What would be good for him? What would please his subscribers? Most days he ended up playing video games and writing in his journal but those questions always bothered him, and made him feel guilty.  Everything he had was because of his following and for the last two months he had barely acknowledged them. 

It was a necessity unfortunately.  He couldn’t deal with people right now, with videos or scripts or filming, it was getting hard even to look at himself in the mirror, but he didn’t need to think about that now. Now he just needed to run, and he was doing that well this morning.  Good energy, good stamina, he was going fast but at a steady pace.  He had been building up to this, and now once again he was in pretty good shape.  Like the tour had never happened.  He could easily run twice as far as when he had started and he was proud of that.  Exercise provided thoughtless linear progression, something life had never given him.

Ironically although being out of school was a lot better for his general health and happiness, Daniel had long ago realized that he missed the structure that classes had given him.  He missed the clarity, the act of working towards a set objective.  Of course he had goals, things he wanted to do and accomplish, professional, creatively and personally, but those were always flexible.  Things could be moved around, altered at last minute.  He could change his mind, back down, take things in a new direction.  The freedom worked well for his work but it wreaked havoc with his mental health and sometimes when Dan looked ahead all he could see was a confusing mass of unfinished projects, and half-baked ideas.  And suddenly none of it seemed good enough, or daring enough, or truthful enough. 

He had been sixteen when he decided to be a lawyer.  After all, why not?  It was a respectable, profitable profession that fit easily with the social conventions he had had been raised around.  It was solid, certain, and the fact that he had no passion or interest in it had mattered very little to him.  It was a safe option, something no one in his family would question.  It made him envision a fashionable apartment in London, a boring company full of old men in suits, a life of morning rushes, and afternoon coffees. He would work there until he was sixty and then retire to the country side.  Maybe he would get married, have kids, go on long vacations to the dessert and sit watching the sun melt against a the lumps of a sandy horizon.  Maybe he would write fanfictions in his spare time or make unpopular YouTube videos, or develop a passion for Rose wine, or Kandinsky’s art.  Maybe he work for an environmental firm or an LGBTQ association, maybe he would help immigrants. 

Maybe, he would have been a good lawyer.  Maybe, he would have helped people more profoundly than he did in his current profession but Daniel didn’t think so.  He wasn’t sure he would have even made it through law school, much less the real work.  But he did envy something about that possibility.  He envied the certainty.  As amazing and interesting as his career was there were no assurances.  His audience could leave tomorrow, for any reason at all.  Maybe he said the wrong thing once, maybe he was ignorant about something important, or maybe there was just some other youtuber they preferred, or maybe they just didn’t like YouTube like they used to, or they didn’t like his content now. 

Daniel laughed out loud.  _His content_.   It would have been far more accurate to say, his lack of content.  It had been 10 months already, and if he was being honest with himself Daniel had no idea when he would be in the mood to work again.  He had tried of course, a dozen times, more maybe, but nothing had felt right, nothing had felt good, and most of those failed attempts had ended up with him sobbing to Phil, feeling like he was 19 and quitting school again.

He craved certainty.  He wanted a work of black and white, where it was easy to know what to do.  Free from doubt and confusion, free from fear.  A world of perfect dichotomies where he always knew exactly what to do.  Maybe it was childish or immature to crave such simplicity, but Daniel couldn’t help it.  Currently nothing in his life felt simple, except running, and Phil of course. 

At least he never had to worry about that. His life with Phil always fit into place.  It wasn’t perfect, but they understood each other, and they accepted each other, and they were kind to each other, and that was all Daniel could ever ask of his partner.  The lack of intimacy during tours was taxing, his mental health was taxing, Phil’s anxiety and paranoia were taxing, but at the end of the day this was nothing compared to what their relationship gave them.  It helped Phil with his loneliness, the lack of real connections he had felt in his life before they’d met, and for Daniel being with Phil was often the only reason he managed to get out of bed.  No matter how bad things got, and they had gotten pretty bad in the past, spending time with his favorite person always managed to give him meaning, to lift his mood, to make him feel loved, and wanted.

He was three blocks from home, running past small shops and apartment buildings made of old stone.   He kept his eyes down, his face neutral, there was music in his ear but he didn’t really hear it.  His mind was too busy going around in familiar circles and questions and problems.  Over and over again, he was really, truly a constant over thinker.  It was 90% of his waking time, and the only moments of relief he got were during sex, food and Mario Kart. 

Even now, while his body was occupied, he couldn’t escape it.  It really wasn’t a wonder that he was always tired.  The truth was, that the older he got, the more certainty came into play.  Besides Phil what was he certain about? He wasn’t certain about god, or faith, politics, or philosophy, he wasn’t even certain of his sexuality of his…

Everything was in the gray zone.  And at night to torture himself he would pull things out from old drawers in his mind and poke at them, question them, wanting a clear answer to something that by its very nature could have none.  Had his parents been good parents? Had he really loved his ex-girlfriend? Had he known that Phil was his soul mate at 18, or had he had just been looking for a good fuck? Was there one answer to any of these?

His parents had provided well enough.  He had a house, a room, clothes, food, a car when he was 16, not everyone got that.   And even now there was no doubt in his mind that his parents had loved him, even if along the way they had made some very questionable choices.  Like letting him go to music festivals, letting him drink in the house, letting his girlfriend stay the night.  In short treating him like an adult as soon as he turned 14, and simultaneously failing to teach him anything about adulthood.  It wasn’t until university that he learned how to do basic things like cook pasta, or do laundry, or go grocery shopping.

That certainly wasn’t the kind of parent he wanted to be, if he ever did become a parent.  But was it good enough? Was it average? How did you measure? Did you go by how the child turned out? Because if that was the case they got off the hook.  Daniel was perfectly functional, successful even, but his parent’s decisions had certainly not helped him in that.   Did you judge their intentions? Because those were good, and in the years that followed they had changed and learned, raising Adrian in a very different manner than their first born.  Or did you judge them by checking off the long list of things that a child had to learn and seeing how many of them they had missed.  In which case they didn’t fare well at all. 

And what about his ex-girlfriend? She had been a major part of his life.  His first sexual experiences, the first times he had travelled without his family. She had given him that first sense of independence and adventure which at the time he had craved so intensely.  She had been his confident, and the first person to know a lot about him.  Not just his choking kink, but she had been the first person with whom he had ever discussed his sexual orientation.  Those were the good bits, and when Daniel thought about that he really did feel like he had loved her, but then there was so much else. 

There were their terrible petty fights.  His unjustifiable jealousy, the way she demanded attention and time and belittled his interests.  And most of all their growing resentment to each other. They were both good looking teenagers, they could have been sleeping with many people, getting different experience, exploring options, and instead they had been stuck in a lukewarm relationship full of holes and budding egos.  And the answer to his question, the truth, it was a mangled combination of all the good and all the bad.  So yes, maybe he had loved her for some of their years together, but maybe he had also hated her a little too.

But then how could that be? How could you hate and love? Enjoy someone’s company and also want to be rid of them?  How could all those emotions exist together, work together, how did any of it make sense? Even now looking back after almost 10 years of not having seen her Daniel had no idea.  Sometimes he had the silly notion that if they met up again, for a cup of coffee or something, he would know. He would look into her brown eyes and find his answer there, like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat.  But wasn’t this just a fantasy? An easy but ultimately empty solution, that meant nothing against the reality, which was that he didn’t know. 

He didn’t know if his parents had been good parents.  He didn’t know if he had really loved his girlfriend or not, even with Phil, he couldn’t be sure.  The start of their friendship and everything that had happened around that was so long ago, and so distorted by everything that come after.  Phil had been his idol, his crush, his obsession even, but he hadn’t been his only one.  He had loved charlieissocoollike just as much, and SMOSH even more.  What would have happened if they had messaged instead of Phil? What would he have done? How would things have worked out?

Phil had always made him laugh, made him feel at ease.  He remembered vividly all the hours he had spent looking over those 2008 videos, and wondering about the boy behind the camera.  But why? Was it just a crush? Or had something in him been able to somehow recognize his soul mate?  Could it be some crazy past life story, not that he believed in those specifically.  But maybe that could explain it.  That in another life they had been together and loved each other and that had been what had drawn them together against all the odds.

Or maybe he had just been bored.  He remembered High School as a lonely time, and that year specifically had been hard on him, especially after his break up.  So maybe back then when he saw Phil, he didn’t have any notion of the future, or even of a serious relationship, maybe he had only seen a beautiful man whom he had wanted.  And if so, well, wasn’t that hilarious? That he and Phil had built all this just based on wanting to have sex.  Wasn’t that insane?  Didn’t it go against common sense?

Daniel stopped running at the front door of his building, his mind however wouldn’t shut off so easily.  He unlocked the first door and then did a light job down the hallway towards the stairs.  His mind had an endless supply of questions that had no answer, only impassionate discussions that lead nowhere, and that seemed the drain the life out of him.   He had gone over each of them a thousand times, explored every question, handled them again and again, until they melted like putty in his hand.  And all for what? It gave him no clarity, no certainty.  And those were only the questions that didn’t matter, but what about the ones that were relevant now? The ones that he _needed_ answers to?

Two flights of stairs later he was at the apartment door, and unlocking it with sweaty fingers.  The inside was dark, blinds drawn over everything, the world silent and asleep.  He hung up his jacket, turned off the music and took off his shoes, and all the while his mind didn’t stop a second.  Upstairs, in their moon room, Phil would be warm and sweet in his emoji pajamas. He would be lying on his back, his hair tussled, his arm outstretched towards the cold side of the bed that belonged to Daniel.  It pleased him a little to go into the room and find him just like he had anticipated.  Sleeping just so.  Looking just as beautiful as the first they’d met.   It was always a certainty, coming back to him. 

Daniel stripped to his underwear and got in bed again.  He felt Phil’s warm around go around him.  “Ugh, you’re sweaty,” he mumbled, half asleep.   Daniel gave a little smile and kissed his wrist. 

“Sorry baby.”

Phil grunted, pulling him closer until they were spooning, and today Daniel was the little spoon.  A good place to be since it meant he could rub against his boyfriend’s cock and hopefully wake him up earlier than usual.  But not yet. It was too soon, and Daniel was tired, and his head was heavy, and he wanted to sleep, he wanted both of them to sleep, because everything was easier then. 

Daniel closed his eyes and the world was black, his only sensation Phil’s breathing in his ear.  Soft, and slight, and warm, in, and out, and constant.  Constant.  At first he had been worried about constancy.  Worried that someone else might snatch Phil up, or that his older boyfriend would get tired of being with a teenager who lived hundreds miles away and wasn’t out to his parents.  Wasn’t even out to himself really.  He had been jealous, and immature, and yet their relationship had survived that, Phil had forgiven him and they had moved past it.

But there were still so many things Dan didn’t understand.  Was it really men he liked? Or was it maybe just Phil? What would have happened if his first experience with a man had been with someone else?  Would it have seemed forced, or stranger or repulsive?  Would he have enjoyed it as much? He had always known he liked girls, that was easy, and following his break up he had been with enough of them to be sure that it wasn’t just about his ex.  But what about boys?  When did that come into play? When had he first thought a boy was cute? And now when he did think that Timothee Chalamet or Evan Peters were cute, was that aesthetic, or was it sexual?

Once, during one of their early fights Daniel had kissed someone else, a very attractive boy that he had had classes with.  They had been in bed together, and Daniel had wanted him, wanted him every bit as much as he wanted Phil, physically at least.  But then one kiss and he was pulling away, shaking his head, because it was wrong, it was totally totally wrong.  But why had it felt wrong?  Because he and Phil belonged together? Or was it that he didn’t want other men, didn’t want to kiss them or hold them or fuck them.  Maybe it was only Phil who brought out that side of him. Maybe that was what made their relationship so special. 

He had told Phil that once, but he had only chuckled at it.  “I hope it’s not just about sex,” he said, kissing Daniel’s nose. 

“Being with a man isn’t just different because of the sex,” Dan said putting his arms around him. “Everything is different.”

He related differently to men.  Women had always seemed like something else.  Their experiences of life were so different.  He _wanted_ to understand them, but wasn’t sure he had ever managed to.  But then that brought him to the issue at hand.  What did it mean to be a man? Was it a way of behaving, a way of thinking, a way of being?  Or did saying you were a man make you one? What were the rules, where was the sense? And – and was he one? Was he a man?

It was only in the last few years that he had attained enough knowledge about sex and gender to question that which for all his life had seemed a fact.  Yes, he was a man.  He had a penis, and he was not a woman.  He was not a trans woman.  He had never felt like a woman at any point in his life, but at the same time, looking back through every one of his memories he couldn’t really find an instance when he had felt like a man.  He had never exactly comforted to male ideals, but even when he did, when he was fucking girls, or going to gym, or the one time in 11th grade when he had gotten in fight, none of that made him feel like a man. 

Thinking about it made him queasy.  Here was another giant puddle of uncertainty among all the rest.  And this one seemed, bigger and deeper and more uncomfortable than anything before.  What was he even supposed to do? Did he dive into it? Or did he just tip toe around it, pretend he had never seen it was there? He knew what the easy path was, but he didn’t know what the right one was. 

 So, being a man was no longer a certainty, no longer a fact.  Now the fact was inverted.  He was not a woman.  That was the fact, the only certainty, outside of this his gender identity was an unformed mass of yikes.  He started analyzing everything to death.  Every one of his gestures, his smiles, the way put his sleeves over his hands like a ‘girl’, thinking over the comments that plagued him since the very start of his YouTube career, the ones that called him feminine, and gay, and pretty.  And now he wondered if people had been seeing something in him and that he had never even managed to see in himself?

“Do you think I’m feminine?” he asked Phil once as they finished an episode of Rupaul. 

Phil cocked his head.  “I guess, sometimes.”

“When?”

Phil looked back at the paused scene on the TV.  “I don’t know that I could point to something specifically. You know? I think everyone is feminine sometimes.” He made a vague gesture towards one of the Queens and Daniel took this to mean: what are the criteria anyway? What is feminine now? And why does it matter? Maybe Phil was only comparing her shinny dress to his shinny tux but Daniel chose to read all those question into his movement. 

Was it feminine to spend forty minutes doing your hair? Was it feminine to paint your nails or like bubble baths? What was him being feminine, and what was just him being gay?  Or even just utilizing his free will to do what he chose despite society’s arbitrary restrictions.  A hectcis guy could still paint his nails, and like bubble baths and take ages on his hair.  Those were just things; they didn’t necessarily have anything to do with your gender or sexuality. 

But what about him? What about him right now, lying in bed with the love of his life.  What was he?  Was he a he? Or was he just a human who didn’t feel strongly towards either path and simply went with the dumb category that society handed towards him? And if that was the truth why should he spend all this time and energy trying to dissect his identity now? What would it even change if he came to the conclusion that he wasn’t a man?

His head was pounding, but at least his body felt good, and the bed was comfortable, and Phil felt lovely beside him.  All this thinking and running had worn him out.  He felt like he was in a hamster wheel, always going, always going, always going _.  Gotta break out like Suki_ , he thought with the twinge of a smile and he scooted backward, pressing himself against his boyfriend. 

If he focused only on Phil it was easier to sleep.  He thought of his coconut shampoo.  He freckles on his arms.  The sharpness of his hips.  The way he had slid one of his legs between Daniel’s. And his breathing, his soft, even breathes, like a faint lullaby sung a thousand times.  And then he was asleep, and calm, his mind empty, his thoughts all paused, and the only thing that existed was Phil beside him.

-

This morning it was Phil who got up first.  He lifted his head a little to look at his boyfriend.  He looked so peaceful and pretty when he slept.  He leaned forward and kissed his check, exactly where his dimple would be.  Dan shuffled nearer to him in bed, until their bodies were flush against each other. 

Phil couldn’t help but smile.  Somethings never changed.  He closed again, pretending to sleep, while very slowly Dan made grinding circles with his hips, moving his ass against Phil’s crotch.  He was hard after just a few seconds, and then gave a little moan, soft, and pretty.  “Let me sleep,” he complained, not meaning it at all. 

Dan moved his hips a little bit more.  “I am,” he whispered.  “I’m very sleepy myself.”

“Mmm… sleepy?”

“Yes, so very sleepy.” The subtlety was gone, he was grinding on him hard and Phil was loving it.  He moved his arm from Dan’s waist and went up pinching at his nipple. 

“You should be sleepy; I’m guessing your run was very tiring.”

“Exhausting,” Dan whispered as Phil began kissing at his neck. 

And it was the start to another morning, another day, and Phil knew that the longer they lasted the longer he kept Dan’s thoughts at bay.  He took his time with every gesture, with every movement, teasing him, making him whimper and shutter with longing.  And yes, it was about the pleasure, the pleasure was amazing for both of them, but it was also more than that.  For those 40 or 60 or 80 minutes he had Dan all to himself.  A Dan that had no worries, no fears, no thought spirals. A Dan that wanted only one thing and this Phil was always more than happy to give him. 

At least in this one tiny portion of his life Dan had complete certainty. 


End file.
